


The Disappearing Ground

by ocean_of_notions



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angst, Daybreak, F/M, Sadness, Series Finale, special destinies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-24
Updated: 2009-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ocean_of_notions/pseuds/ocean_of_notions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lee is afraid to sleep, afraid that if he lets go she’ll vanish. She’s done it before, but this time she won’t come back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Disappearing Ground

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this fic immediately after the finale. It goes AU during a certain scene, but it might not make you feel any better about what happened. You have been warned. Title is from a line in Rilo Kiley's "The Good That Won't Come Out."

“He’s not coming back this time,” Lee says.

They are standing in the meadow, beneath clear skies.  Even though Kara feels the end coming she can’t help relishing the grass and the wind and the sky and him, right there where she could reach out and wrap her arms around him if she wanted to.  She doesn’t do that.  What she does, is break his heart for the last time.

“No, he’s not,” she says, and she’s surprised by how easily the words come to her.  “Neither am I.”  

He stares at her and looks so young in the sunlight.  “Where are you going?”

She blinks, bites her lip, tries not to break.  “I don’t know.  I just know that I am done here.  I’ve completed my journey, and it feels good.”

He’s silent as he steps closer, and she suspects he’s preparing an argument, a rationale, a well thought-out reason for her to stay.  She can’t have that though.

“So what about you?” she says, looking away for a moment to compose herself.  “What are you going to do?  Today is the first day of the rest of your life, Lee.”

For a moment Kara thinks it’s going to work, thinks he’s going to be dissuaded, but she should have learned by now that Lee can be just as stubborn and unpredictable as she can.  Just as she starts to pull back, he reaches for her.  She thinks that she must be slowing down with age because she lets him grasp her hand and she doesn’t run away when he steps closer.

“Kara,” he says.

She waits for his opposition, for his debate, but it doesn’t come.  He rubs his thumb over her knuckles and stares into her eyes, just a few inches from his own.

“Kara,” he says again, his mouth twisting and his eyes damp.

She can’t look at him anymore, so she ducks her head but that doesn’t work because then she’s just staring at their hands.  She sucks in a breath and the sudden realization that she _can’t_ do this, not without him.  She needs this.  They need this.

She can’t speak, so she takes that extra step into his space and curls her free hand around the back of his neck, fingers brushing lightly against his longer hair.  They stand like that for a long time until Lee breaks the silence.

“You can have this,” he says.  “We can have this.”

And she wants to believe him so she smiles and says, “I’m with you.”

They stay out in the field for hours, and when they walk back to camp Kara can’t stop grinning and Lee can’t stop touching her.  They pick up their share of supplies and set off on their own the next morning.  Lee wants to explore, and Kara doesn’t think she’ll ever have her fill of this world.  Besides, she’s always liked uncharted territory.

Lee learns to make spears for fishing and hunting, and Kara’s determined to show him up at both.  The algae rations are no more appealing now than ever before, so they find plenty of opportunity to practice.  The first time Lee catches a fish, Kara tells him she loves him, and he doesn’t hesitate to say it back.  

Kara’s skin gets pink and starts peeling everywhere, and she almost hates Lee for his tan alone, but they sleep under the stars together almost every night.  When it rains, they huddle beneath a bit of canvas masquerading as a tent, stretched between two trees.

A few weeks later, the dreams start.  Kara never remembers them come morning, but Lee remembers the way she cries in her sleep, the way she twists in his arms as though she’s trying to escape.  Lee is afraid to sleep, afraid that if he lets go she’ll vanish.  She’s done it before, but this time she won’t come back.

Kara becomes tense, nervous.  She’s constantly alert, waiting for ... something to happen.  Something to take her away because she’s too weak to leave.  They don’t talk about it but Kara can see forever in his eyes, and knows that with every breath, every moment, he’s begging her to fight, to fight for him.  And every time she thinks maybe it’s time to end this torture, she sees him again, or hears him or feels him.  Every time that’s enough to buy her just one more day.

They also don’t talk about the fact that contraceptives have long since run out.  Lee doesn’t say that the sure-fire way to not be forgotten is to procreate, but he can’t stop thinking it. It never happens though, and he doesn't dare dream in hypotheticals.

They’ve been on New Earth for 365 days when Kara has her first “spell.”  She’s sitting with Lee, leaning back against a tree and naming the stars, making up the ones they don’t know.  They’re pressed together from hip to ankle, legs entangled and shoulders brushing.  She laughs, and the sound is free of all the tension that has plagued them for so long.  

Lee is talking, facing the sky, when Kara suddenly stiffens, her head jerking around to face his.

“Lee—” she says, and his name is a choked cry from her lips.  Her hand tightens on his own.

“Kara?”  He searches her face for something, a clue; he doesn’t understand what’s happening, what’s wrong.

Her free hand reaches for his face but hesitates, falls back, and she’s terrified.  He can see it in her eyes.  He does the only thing he can think to do: he grabs her other hand and pulls her body to his, wraps his arms around her and doesn’t let go.  She presses her face into his neck and he can feel her breath shuddering through her, her whole body shaking.  

Lee tightens his arms around her and then, for one second, he can’t feel her.  For one fraction of a second, she’s gone and then she’s gasping against his neck and her whole body is rigid against his.

“They’re trying to take me back,” she says and he just keeps holding on.

After that, Lee refuses to let her out of his sight.  She hates that, and one day it’s enough to make her storm off faster than he can follow.  He spends three hellish hours searching for her until she walks calmly back to him.  They both apologize, and she tells him she’s scared too.  

Lee considers going back to one of the settlements, thinks that it might be harder for her to slip away with other eyes watching.  But if these are to be Kara’s last days, he doesn’t want to share her.  As soon as the thought occurs to him, he expunges the words _Kara’s last days_ from his vocabulary.

Four weeks after the first spell, it happens again.  This time, it happens during broad daylight.  They’re striding through the woods, Kara several feet ahead of him, when she tenses, turns around and calls out for him.  He’s at her side in a second, but the moment when she vanishes in his arms is even worse than the last.  When she comes back, she’s hyperventilating and Lee doesn’t feel like he can breathe at all.  It takes them hours to work up the courage to let go of each other and keep moving.  

“What did it feel like,” Lee says as they walk, this time side by side, “when—when it took you?”

It takes Kara several moments to respond.  She keeps walking, gaze roving around the woods before them.  “I don’t know how to explain it,” she finally admits.  “Like something’s pulling at me.  From—” she pauses, presses one fist against her chest.  She shakes her head then continues.  “Turning me inside out and I can’t—everything’s fading.”

He reaches for her hand but she pulls away.

“I think I made a mistake.”  She won’t look at him, staring up at the birds.  “I’ve offended the Gods, overstayed my welcome.”

Lee shakes his head and steps in front of her.  He grips her shoulders and takes a moment to just enjoy the feeling of her, _here_ , warm and solid and real.  “Do you regret it?”  He thinks he should try to argue with her, show her all of the reasons that staying with him isn’t a mistake.  But she never has responded well to reason, and maybe her answer to this question is the only thing that matters.

Her eyes bore into him, so fierce that the thought of losing her nearly brings him to his knees.  He holds on, just barely, still grasping her shoulders.  Then she raises her left hand to cup his cheek and trace the line of his jaw.  

“No,” she says, and it sounds like a sin coming from her lips but it’s maybe the best thing he’s ever heard.  

The spells come intermittently after that, six days later and then two months apart.  By some unspoken accord, they don’t talk about her leaving.  They both know there will be a reckoning someday, but when that day comes they are determined not to have any regrets.  

Two years after they found this planet, Kara vanishes for days.  The spells have been getting longer, but never so long as that.  He’s sleeping when she comes back to him, and he wakes to the feel of her warm body pressed against his back.  When he rolls over to look at her, she gives him a sleepy smile and kisses him as though nothing has happened.

Three years to the day on this world, and Lee returns alone to the meadow in which she’d stood by his side as they watched a Raptor fly away.  Kara has been gone for forty-two days.  Lee lies down in the long grass and closes his eyes, thinking of the stars they’d named together.  He waits.


End file.
